Mr. Kilpatrick to Mr. Seward.
Sir: I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your dispatches Nos. 52, 53, and 54, dated respectively December 7 and 27, 1867, and January 9, 1868.
In my dispatch No. 99, dated February 1, I informed you that I was about to make a short trip to the Andes, and that on my return I would make a report of my observations. I left Santiago on the third of that month, and was absent a little over three weeks, in which time I crossed the Cordilleras and visited the towns of San Carlos, Mendoza, and San Rafael, in the Argentine Confederation.
With baggage and provisions packed on mules I reached the pass of San José in one day’s march from Santiago, and on the night of the second day bivouacked far up in the Cordilleras on the verge of vegetation. From this point is one day’s hard traveling up perfectly barren mountains to a small valley at the foot of the first principal ridge. Another day’s journey along this valley, a great portion of which has been inundated by some terrific volcanic eruption, leaving great heaps of sulphuric rock, lava, and ashes, brought us to the Cumbre or zigzag path by which the higher chain is crossed. The ascent here was extremely difficult [Page 319] the rarified atmosphere affecting man and beast very sensibly. There was considerable snow to cross, but the temperature was not so low as to necessitate the use of an overcoat. Crossing the heights, the path descends into a wide, desolate valley, many thousand feet above the sea. A day was occupied in crossing this waste, and another day in passing over the great Postillo pass, 14,300 feet high. This pass is one of the most difficult of the Andes. There is always more or less snow, the road consists of only a rocky path sufficiently wide for one to pass at a time, and a freezing wind blows with great violence. On reaching the summit the animals manifested much uneasiness. There is barely standing room for two or three persons on the ridge, from which a misstep would hurl mule and rider to destruction; and we found it necessary to lie down to avoid being swept off by the wind. The view was indescribably grand. The volcanoes of Aconcagua and Tupongati, respectively 23,000 and 26,000 feet high, rear their snow-white peaks above vast and seemingly boundless chains of black mountains utterly destitute of vegetation or animal life, with the exception of the condor, that solitary, on some lofty rock, watches the passing traveler, or slowly circles about the bristling pinnacles. A day was occupied in descending this ridge to the pampas, making in all a journey of seven days, although by forced marching it may be made in four.
Being unprovided with instruments I was unable to make any scientific observations; but this route having been visited by explorers, its phenomena is already known to science.
On reaching the pampas, which stretch in a sterile waste from the eastern base of the Andes many hundred miles to the fertile regions of Buenos Ayres, I stopped at one of the haciendas which, like small vases, dot the sandy plains, and spent a few days collecting specimens of birds and animals, of which there are many beautiful and rare varieties. After a day’s visit to San Carlos, a small village on the highway to the southern frontier, I went to Mendoza, making a trip of ninety miles in a coach in ten hours. The ruins of the city, destroyed by the earthquake in 1862, when nine thousand lives were lost, still lie as they fell, with many families yet buried in the debris, and vines and weeds growing in wild confusion above them. Nothing has been done on the site of the destroyed city except to extricate the remains of a few persons from the ruins and reopen some of the principal streets leading to the country. On the border of the ruins a new town of about eight thousand inhabitants has already sprung up. The buildings are good, the streets wide, well paved, and adorned with shade trees, and the place promises to become an important city.
As I was traveling simply for relaxation, I declined the honors which the civil and military authorities offered, and at the expiration of two days left for San Rafael, the military outpost on the southern frontier between civilization and the hostile Indians. Here I remained a day, which was celebrated by the officers and citizens by a grand ostrich hunt, in which thirty ostriches and a number of curious animals were taken; and escorted by a troop of cavalry, furnished by the military commander, I set out across the pampas, fifty leagues to the Planchon pass in the south, en route for Chili. These plains are infested with hostile Indians, but none molested the party, and after several days’ rough traveling over the Andes, and hunting guanacos, a species of deer, I reached Curico, the terminus of the southern railroad from Santiago.
The inhabitants on the other side of the Andes are brave, intelligent, and prosperous, and are deeply interested in the affairs of the United [Page 320] States. On every hand I was warmly welcomed as the representative of a people whose history forms an example to all republics, and I am sure that there is no heartier admiration manifested for our government by any class than that evinced by the communities among which I visited in the heart of South America.
The customs of that section differ very little from those of Chili and Peru. Traffic in cattle and horses is the principal business, in which vast fortunes might be suddenly made were it not for the losses sustained from the predatory revolutionary parties and the levies of the government. Immense herds of cattle and sheep are annually driven over the Andes to Chili, and when the military road now in process of construction by Chili is completed, trade between the two countries will become very important.
The subject of constructing a railroad by way of the Planchon pass has long been under consideration, and surveys have been made demonstrating the practicability of the undertaking. Were this to be accomp-lished, and the vast plains on the other side to be redeemed by irrigation by a large canal, as is also contemplated, an area of many thousand square miles now uninhabitable would become a garden in fertility, and afford to the enterprising a field of wealth surpassing any region of the world. The Cordilleras abound in mineral riches, the plains are as fertile as the prairies of the west; the climate is genial and of a regular temperature, and health and prosperity are sure to attend all who engage in the development of these regions.
From Curico I came to Santiago by rail, through a beautiful country full of valuable haciendas. I cannot, in the limits of an ordinary dispatch, give an adequate idea of the countless objects of interest presented in a trip of this kind, a journey of over twelve hundred miles, one thousand of which were made in the saddle. It will remain for the intelligent traveler, whose leisure may enable him to do justice to the subject, to elaborate a description of the wonderful phenomena of the Andes and the beauty and undeveloped wealth of these regions. I regard my experience on the journey as belonging to the most valuable of my life, and I shall ever be zealous to aid any undertaking that has for its object the diffusion of knowledge of these countries, and the opening of their treasures to the world.
Although my visit to the Argentine Confederation was unauthorized and unofficial, yet, in view of the friendly relationship between that government and the United States, I would respectfully request that our minister at Buenos Ayres be requested to express our appreciation of the courtesy extended to a representative of the United States by Colonel Segovia, commanding first regiment cavalry of the line, at San Rafael, who furnished me with an escort for several days during my journey on the borders of the Indian country.
I have the honor to remain, very respectfully, your obedient servant,
Hon. William H. Seward, Secretary of State, Washington, D. C.